Saving Stalin by John Kelly

Author:John Kelly [KELLY, JOHN]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Hachette Books
Published: 2020-10-06T00:00:00+00:00

15

COMMANDER IN CHIEF

ON ARMISTICE DAY 1943 THE COLD GRAY SKY ABOVE ARLINGTON National Cemetery held the promise of rain, and a sharp wind whipped across the rows of headstones, catching the damp leaves and twirling them upward into the frosty air. At the entrance to the cemetery, a directory led the living to the graves of the dead. At a little before 11:00 A.M. an open car bearing the hatless president of the United States arrived in Arlington and was directed to the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier. The dark navy dress cape wrapped around Roosevelt’s shoulders complemented his aristocratic profile and added a flash of color to his colorless cheeks.

The president was recovering from an extended bout of what his doctor described as the grippe, though it was uncommon and dangerous for the grippe to produce a temperature of 104 in an adult. Still, it was wartime; thousands of young Americans were dying on battlefields across the globe. It was the duty of the president of the United States to publicly honor their sacrifice. Roosevelt’s car stopped in front of the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier, where the dead of the Great War awaited him on the twenty-fifth anniversary of the end of the war that was supposed to end all wars. A soldier holding a wreath of chrysanthemums stepped forward. An army band struck up “The Star-Spangled Banner”; Vice Admiral Wilson Brown, the president’s naval aide, placed a wreath at the grave; the somber ruffle of drums followed—and then the cold November air filled with the lonely sound of a single bugle playing taps.

The following day Roosevelt; Admiral William Leahy, his chief of staff; Hopkins; Admiral King; and General Marshall all boarded the fifty-eight-thousand-ton battleship USS Iowa in Hampton Roads, Virginia. It was a perfect sailing day: the sky blue, the wind becalmed. But an old sailor’s suspicion held that Friday departures brought bad luck, and the president was not inclined to challenge that superstition. The Iowa sat at anchor until a few minutes after midnight on the thirteenth. Then it hoisted anchor and disappeared into the night. Two days later an incident at sea proved that bad things can also happen to ships that sailed on Sundays. That afternoon Roosevelt and Hopkins were up on deck watching a live-fire exercise when the Iowa’s loudspeaker suddenly came alive: “Torpedo defense! This is not a drill!”

An officer on the bridge two decks above Roosevelt and Hopkins leaned over a rail and shouted, “It’s the real thing! It’s the real thing!” Amid furious shouting and the blurting of the loudspeaker, Hopkins asked the president if he wanted to be taken back to his cabin. “No,” Roosevelt said—and asked to be taken to the starboard side of the Iowa, which offered a better view. The Iowa boasted 157 guns, and by the time the president reached his new position all 157 were pointed at a silvery object splashing through the rough sea toward the Iowa with a dolphin-like grace. “Target, six hundred yards!” a voice shouted.

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